


eggs.

by presidentbees



Series: Arcane Distillery [2]
Category: Arcane Distillery, Original Work
Genre: Cultists, Cults, Demonic Possession, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Intrusive Thoughts, Original Fiction, Self-Mutilation, Violent Thoughts, everything is done due to possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentbees/pseuds/presidentbees
Summary: “I c-can’t do it,” Bonnie cried, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and landing on the back of his hands. “I c-can’t do it. Pl-please don’t m-make me. I c-can’t do th-this.”Sensing Bonnie’s thoughts, Eidolon presented Bonnie with the picture of himself sitting at the kitchen table, one hand bandaged as he happily ate a bowl of cereal. This Bonnie had dry cheeks, and was wearing comfortable pajamas. He wasn’t sitting on the floor of his bathroom wearing boxers and holding a hammer above his hand. This Bonnie was happy.‘This could be you,’was the message that Eidolon was sending.‘Finish the job, and everything can be normal.’Reuploaded from the Arcane Distillery short story collection





	eggs.

Bonnie woke up gagging as something slippery slid down his throat. Lashing out, Bonnie’s hand connected with something solid, and he heard it go flying off of the counter, cracking against the floor. 

It was dark, and Bonnie tried to orientate himself with what little light there was. He was bent over the kitchen sink, and even though he didn’t have his contacts in, he could see the outline of eggshells littering the sink.

Spluttering, Bonnie tried to cough and force whatever was in his throat back up. He could still feel it slipping down his throat, but as he tried to force his fingers into his mouth to throw it back up, he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of dread. 

Bonnie got the mental image of himself throwing up, then reaching down into the vomit covered sink and grabbing one of the discarded egg shells and cramming it in his mouth. The eggshells cut at his mouth, but Bonnie continued chewing them until they were fine enough to swallow— and then he did it again. 

Gasping, Bonnie stepped back from the sink. _‘What the fuck was that?’_

He felt something hard underneath his foot, which promptly cracked and burst against his skin. Looking down, he saw that he had knocked a carton of eggs into the floor, A few of them had rolled away, unscathed, but the majority of them had cracked on contact with the floor and were leaking yolk across the dirty tile. 

_‘Eat it.’_

Bonnie got the mental image of getting a piece of bread and dabbing it in the broken yolk. It would be delicious — like eating over easy eggs. 

_‘Eat it’._

The feeling urged him again, and Bonnie almost wanted to do it but— he’d also never seen Dria mop the floors since she’d moved in, and Bonnie knew that he hadn’t done it either. There had to be months of grime stuck on the floors. Mixing that with the egg yolks was sure to get him sick—

_‘Eat. It.’_

Bonnie felt his stomach heave like he’d just been punched. The contents of his stomach rebelled, and for a second, Bonnie was terrified that he was going to throw up on the kitchen floor for Dria to come in and see. She couldn't see him like this. _Nobody_ could see him like this.

 

* * *

 

“I c-can’t do it,” Bonnie cried, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and landing on the back of his hands. “I c-can’t do it. Pl-please don’t m-make me. I c-can’t do th-this.” 

His eyes were squeezed shut, but Bonnie saw the violent image of himself raising a hammer and bringing it down on his fingers. Blood splattered the bathroom tiles, and the scene restarted. Bonnie raising the hammer and bringing it down on his fingers. Blood splattering the tiles. Bonnie raising the hammer. Blood splattering the tiles. A hammer. Bloody tiles. Bloody fingers. Bloody hammer. Bonnie. 

Bonnie choked. If he had anything in his stomach, he would have thrown it up by now. This must have been why Eidolon didn't let him eat all day. His head was swimming, and Bonnie felt like he was going to faint. 

Sensing Bonnie’s thoughts, Eidolon presented Bonnie with the picture of himself sitting at the kitchen table, one hand bandaged as he happily ate a bowl of cereal. This Bonnie had dry cheeks, and was wearing comfortable pajamas. He wasn’t sitting on the floor of his bathroom wearing boxers and holding a hammer above his hand. This Bonnie was happy. 

_‘This could be you,’_ was the message that Eidolon was sending. _‘Finish the job, and everything can be normal.’_

With one shaking hand, Bonnie picked up the hammer that he had bought earlier that day. It felt heavy and unnatural in his hand. The wood grip hurt his hands, and it looked. so menacing.

“Pl-please. I d-don’t. w-w-wan— w-w-w—” Bonnie’s face crumpled as he broke off into another round of sobs. 

The feeling of dread building in Bonnie’s stomach only intensified. Promising that if Bonnie didn’t complete this task, then the punishment for him was going to be much more than just bloody fingers. 

Sniffling, Bonnie took in a deep breath, and before he could stop himself, swung the hammer down at his hand.

 

* * *

 

It was 3am on Monday morning, and Bonnie Daven had been awake since 8am on Saturday. Almost a full 48 hours. And boy. He was. Feeling. It. 

Sitting on the couch, Bonnie felt his eyes crossing as he tried to focus on the blurry television screen. The heating pad on his lap was on its highest setting, and the steady burning sensation against his skin was helping to keep him awake, along with helping the intense pain in his stomach. 

The pressure in his head was unbearable, and Bonnie desperately wished that he could take painkiller. Or eat something to help. He was probably just hungry. Or dehydrated. Or all three. 

Bonnie ran his tongue over his dry lips. He really just wanted a glass of water. Maybe once he was done with whatever he was being punished for, Eidolon would let him drink again.

**Author's Note:**

> :)c i just really like pushing bonnie.


End file.
